


fleurs du mal

by Piriluk (orphan_account)



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Gay, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Multi, Romance, Sibling Incest, Twoshot, hi hana, so gay ok, this would have sex if i wasnt writing this for a minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 03:30:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5523818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Piriluk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Just a rotten girl inside—deep, deep down…" Mikuo/Miku/Gumi, TWOSHOT. For hanakos.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fleurs du mal

**Author's Note:**

> to hananananana: hello smol slash umifangriller friend. it is me, Your Sinner Friend. I'm sorry you get the angst fic, but this was better than my other original idea for you (the other one had like no ships). but YOU LIKE ANGST, RIGHT? AND YOU LIKE SIN, AND THIS HAS /A LOT/ OF SIN. IN ALL FORMS. anyway. this is my christmas slash im-sorry-your-birthday-was-crisisday fic 4 u. pls enjo. im sorry i dont have the heart to write an actual lenku fic (peaces out mouthing rinlen 4ever) gay and incest is so much better mmmhmhm.
> 
> i had something really good to put here but i forget everything so (lays down and dies).

**fleurs du mal**

/

_and I wanna kiss you, make you feel alright_

_i'm just so tired to share my nights_

_i wanna cry and I wanna love_

_but all my tears have been used up_

/

The day he stopped saying her name, stopped looking into her eyes, was the day she died a little on the inside.

_Noun:_ Miku. A beautiful rose in a garden of thorns, loved and nourished and watered by all—but _him_. Her light, her only reason to ever want to grow, the one she revolved around—he just turned his back and left her alone to wilt. Gone, like it really never mattered, _they_ never really mattered.

_She_ never really mattered to him, did she? Just a rotten girl inside—deep, deep down…

"Beautiful," the boy murmured, as he brought a strand of her teal hair up to his mouth and kissed it delicately. "You are just so beautiful, like a blossom…"

— _His_ blossom. She was _his_ blossom.

Miku turned away, anything to stop those familiar eyes burning into hers. She hated them—she loved them—but she _hated_ them, most of all. That piercing blue gaze, it was the same—but it belonged to _him_ —not _this_ stranger.

"Miku?" Len questioned, voice softening.

She crumbled under his gaze. "I'm sorry," she choked out, sitting up, pushing him away gently. "I'm sorry—I just can't do this. I'm sorry. I just—I have to go. I'm so sorry."

The girl numbly pulled on her clothes, avoiding him, avoiding his face. She knew he'd be hurt, of course— _he'd fawned over you for years,_ his sister had told her one day with an edge—but she couldn't bear looking at him anymore. It tore her apart inside, slowly, slowly, bit by bit.

His love for her was sickening; it was confronting, it was suffocating. It reminded her of a love she didn't want to feel—a love too familiar. His love wasn't for her, but someone else—not her, definitely not a horrible person like her. She didn't deserve it—she deserved nothing at all.

Not here, not now.

Miku gathered the rest of her things and ran away, not looking back, like Cinderella escaping the grand ball.

/

Had she ever cried like this so much before? She couldn't remember.

Miku fumbled blindly for the house keys, deciding it was highly unlikely anyone would be awake to let her in at this hour. Part of her was cursing for screwing everything up, telling her she shouldn't have just _run off_ like that—but the other part was telling her that it was home, it was home and maybe _something_ would be different for once.

But even the girl knew all too well nothing had, or would, change. One could hope and wish and dream that a better outcome would arise, but the world didn't work in favour to what people wanted.

After unlocking the door and shuffling inside, she noticed the television was on; shadows flickering across the walls of the hallway like spectres. She blinked, rubbed her eyes to check she wasn't hallucinating, and moved on warily.

_He_ was sitting there, watching the screen, expression blank. Miku couldn't see his eyes from the glare on his glasses, but she knew he wouldn't be looking at _her_.

Even so, she tried in a shaky voice—"Hey, 'Kuo."

His head tilted ever so slightly, jaw tensing. He heard her.

Gathering that he wasn't going to respond to her greeting, she tried again, "What're you doing up so late?"

Mikuo shifted in his seat, and she could see his eyes better. They were narrowed, sharp and hostile, like he didn't recognise her at all—like he was building a wall between them, building it so high she couldn't see over, climb over. His fists clenched.

Miku took a steady, discreet step backwards. He wouldn't hit her. She knew that. But—still.

She wiped her eyes and looked away, hoping that it wasn't too obvious that she'd been crying. "Um, you know what?" she mumbled, all confidence dying, along with a dash of pathetic hope. "Don't worry about it. Never mind. Goodnight."

Gathering her belongings, she went to the safety of her room, and crawled under the sheets of her bed to forget everything for a little while.

His footsteps followed not long after, and then the apartment was quiet for good.

/

They'd been best friends for years.

Gumi was beautiful and charming and sporty, something Miku admired. Although a lot of people insisted the tealette was more attractive, blinded by their affection for her, there was something about Gumi's appearance that just made the girl associate her with envy.

She could pull off anything, and didn't care about what anyone else thought about it—something Miku felt like she couldn't do herself. If the girl wanted to wear garbage bags, _goddamn_ she would wear them with unwavering pride and style. She could even make a bad haircut _work_ , somehow. She was just… Wow, in all honesty.

Gumi didn't give a shit about anything—and that was amazing. That was truly amazing.

Despite all this, though, she still insisted Miku was the better person. But was she? Was she really? Miku couldn't see herself as better at all—she was full of visible flaws, unable to camouflage them like Gumi could—just an open book for everyone to gape at.

She appreciated the compliment, but it made her skin crawl with self-loathing. It couldn't be helped.

"So I heard you broke up with Len?" her green-haired friend asked one day over lunch.

The rumour had spread, somehow, a bit like wildfire—soon guys would be lining up again to throw their confessions at Miku's feet and beg for her undivided attention. Unfortunately, all would be unsuccessful in their ventures. Everyone only wanted what they couldn't have.

Miku paused, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. She wasn't sure whether Gumi was going to chastise her for it or not. "Yeah. I just… I couldn't do it, I guess." She kept her eyes on the cup of fried rice in front of her, as if it would grow legs and run away.

"Three months, huh," Gumi stated. "A new record for you. Did his sister scare you away? She's got quite the brother complex going on there."

"No, no, it wasn't Rin—it had nothing to do with Rin," Miku answered, stirring her food with her chopsticks. "It was just… me."

Gumi shrugged. "I guess it happens."

Her friend's casual reaction towards her short-lived relationship made her feel as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She had been far too anxious over what everyone thought towards her recent breakup—but Gumi not having a problem with it felt like everyone else had no problem with it.

Miku gave her a small, hesitant smile. "Yeah. I guess."

/

She always caught herself wondering what she'd done wrong.

It was a bad habit. Gumi told her not to think about it, not to blame herself—but she did it anyway, just unconsciously. They'd been close for so long, everything was going fine—until one day he decided to distance himself and become nothing but a familiar stranger.

There were too many unanswered questions, too many which consumed her mind— _was it because I was_ too _close? Was I creepy? Was I clingy? Was I annoying? Did he just really hate me all along, and finally cracked?_

It seemed like she could never come to a conclusion. She could never say, 'Oh, it's just Mikuo.' No, no— it was a burden too heavy on her shoulders—it was her own fault, too. She must've done _something_ wrong, right?

But Miku was too scared to ever ask. He was so hostile to her. He barely smiled, kept his distance, and was practically unreachable. It was like something had snapped inside of him. She was afraid of making him angry—it'd happened before, and even the thought of that memory made her want to crawl into her self-dug grave and block her ears and eyes and just _stop breathing_.

_Don't blame yourself_.

But he was her _brother_ —they were supposed to be close—or at least that's what she always thought. Maybe it wasn't the case. Miku couldn't get it around her head how intermediate family could _despise_ one another, though. How could people even…?

Sure, there was sibling bantering, something she knew was only natural—but _this_ was more than just a petty sister-brother fight. It'd gone on for _years_ , and it left her swimming in a pool of questions and uncertainty. They were blood. They were blood and skin and DNA and everything—it just didn't make sense. She just didn't understand what she could have possibly done to make Mikuo hate her so much.

So yes, she blamed herself. Everyday. Every time she saw him. It was her fault. Everything was her fault. The connection they once had was more than just broken, and she couldn't bring herself to do anything about it. She was too cowardly.

/

It was strange.

They were painting each other's toenails one Saturday night while watching a rom-com Gumi rented earlier. It was routine to hang out at one another's house on a Saturday and have a sleepover, though, as they got older and busier with school, it happened less often.

This time—three months since their last sleepover slash bitchfest (as Gumi liked to call it)—Miku invited her friend over while her parents were away attending a relative's wedding. After all, it was a thousand times better having Gumi as company, rather than her brother.

The green-haired girl was more than understanding about it—she packed up right away, appeared at her house within half-an-hour; movies tucked under one arm and a night's worth of junk food under the other.

Miku knew Gumi put Mikuo in his place anyway; the boy would run for his room as soon as he heard her arrive, and there wouldn't be a peep out of him for the rest of the night. Back when her brother was less shitty and still talked to people, the trio were quite comfortable with each other—but that was long ago. Now, Gumi would kick his ass—and he knew that too well, so he steered clear of her.

"Hey, Miku," Gumi spoke up as she busied herself, carefully applying a second coat of the cherry red she chose for her friend's toes.

Miku glanced up from her phone. "Yeah?"

"I get why so many guys like you."

The teal-haired girl gave her friend an uncertain smile. "Oh, really? Enlighten me."

"Well, for one," started Gumi, placing her brush back into the nail polish bottle to list reasons with her fingers, "you're adorable. And like, I mean, cuddly teddy bear adorable. Sometimes I just want to pinch your cheeks. They're just so cute and squishy, especially when you smile—" A second finger popped up, "—which is another reason. Your smile is infectious and lights up the whole room. It's one of those things that you don't get enough of and desperately want more of. You should smile more, Miku."

Miku raised an eyebrow, seeming amused. "Smiling hurts."

"Shush," she interrupted, "I'm still not done yet. Number three is your beauty, but as if that isn't already dead obvious. Every girl and her dog wants to look like you."

"Well, you're beautiful too," admitted the tealette with no hesitation.

Gumi paused, then flushed. She brushed off the compliment, seemingly embarrassed by it, and continued, "Number four is your personality. It's so typically… _you_ , you know? You're sweet, you're honest, you're open-minded, you're eager to please… It's a matter of who _wouldn't_ like you."

Miku opened her mouth. "Mi—"

"Excluding _him_ ," her friend interrupted, hostile at the thought. She rolled her eyes. "He's got glasses for a reason."

She blushed, though not sure why, and settled back against the couch. "W—why are we talking about me, anyway? We should be talking about how great _you_ are."

Gumi waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, _pish posh_. No one ever breathes in my direction, Miku. I'm just that weird girl who has great eyebrows."

"Uh, and an _amazing_ fashion sense. You somehow make _everything_ look good on you," she defended.

"It's called having the typical body shape every manufacturer uses as a base for clothes," Gumi deadpanned.

Miku sighed. " _And_ you're really cool and sassy. You're not a _mean_ sassy, like Meiko, but a… a funny sassy. I've never heard a person say something bad about you. Honestly, I wish I could be more like you: witty, entertaining, outgoing…"

Her friend just shook her head, folding her arms over her chest. "Stop flattering me. I'll get egotistical, and then you'll be reconsidering what you said."

"Well, I'm being _honest_." She gave her a solemn look.

Gumi opened her mouth, then closed it and averted her gaze to the floor. "Anyway," she said, "you also have a really nice body. It makes it super awkward whenever there's a group of straight guys standing around, because they're always looking at _you_."

"Are you jealous?" Miku asked.

The green-haired girl paused and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Jealous?" she echoed, rolling it off her tongue, like she'd never heard of the word before. She met her friend's eyes once more. "—Maybe. Maybe I am."

Miku stared, as if unsure she was being serious, then laughed a little. It was getting kind of awkward. "There's no need for you to be," she stated. "They're just hungry teenage boys. The gazes you want are from mature, young men—not those circus freaks."

"That's not what I meant," answered Gumi, her lips pursed.

She felt her eyebrows rise, cleared her throat. "What?"

Gumi folded her hands in her lap and hesitated. Eventually, she sighed. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it." She stood, scooping up the nail polish to put away.

Miku stood with her. "Hey," she said, placing a hand on her forearm, "stop being so weird. Honestly, guys are so _whatever_ —"

"It's not the guys," her friend interrupted. "I don't care about the guys."

"Well, I—"

"Look," Gumi stated firmly. "Can we change the subject? Let's forget we ever talked about this. Let's talk about croutons, or something—anything but this, okay? Please, Miku."

Miku opened her mouth, but decided it wasn't worth the fight. She said she didn't want to talk—so she pressed her lips together and made sure not to speak of it anymore.

But it was weird. The way Gumi acted was weird.

—And, well, not Gumi.

/

She was waiting at the lockers for him.

In that moment, Miku felt pity for the girl, and she wasn't sure why.

But she understood the feeling of waiting, being left behind. Len practically ignored Rin whenever other people were around, and often complained about how _annoying_ and _weird_ she was to Miku when the girl wasn't present.

She could tell Rin really cared for him, she really loved him—even if it was maybe… _questionable_. So, she understood the feeling, although part of her felt disgusted by it.

The blonde heard her approaching, unfortunately, and lifted her head from her phone, blinking as her eyes adjusted. A look of curiosity was soon replaced with disappointment, irritation. Miku had a feeling she held a bit of a grudge against her ever since she ran off that night.

Then again, she had that feeling when she first started dating Len, too. So… whatever.

Nevertheless, Miku tried to be civil.

"Hi Rin," she began cautiously as she drew closer, offering a small smile and friendly wave.

Rin's blue eyes narrowed, scowl deepening. "Hatsune," she greeted back curtly, drawing a barrier between them.

The teal-haired girl chuckled nervously, dropping her gaze. Even though it'd always been like this between them—almost a relationship like archrivals, but for what or who was always the question—it still made her uncomfortable, unsure how to respond.

She inhaled. "Are you waiting for Len? I think I saw him up in the music classrooms talking to a teacher."

"Um. Okay."

"I'm sure he won't be long," she added.

Rin rolled her eyes, as if she'd been told the statement multiple times before. Maybe she had. Who knew how many times she was left waiting?

Miku often wondered if there was anything wrong with the girl—she isolated herself a lot, seemed rather abrupt in her gestures, clung to Len like he was a lifeline, and hardly talked to anyone outside her rather small friendship group…

Still, that didn't explain her brother's immense disinterest in her. Wouldn't he be a lot more… _brotherly_ , if that was the case? If there was… you know, something not exactly right?

Who knew, honestly? It wasn't really her business at the end of the day, anyway.

Still, it bothered her how much Rin cut her off, like she was an enemy or a stranger. It wasn't like Miku was ever rude to her— _or_ dated her brother to get on her bad side, _or_ dumped him for no good reason (though she was yet to fess up her reason for hightailing it that one evening).

"…you break up with Len?"

Miku lifted her head from her locker, fiddling with some textbooks. "Sorry?"

Rin sighed impatiently, folding her arms over her chest. "Why did you break up with him—with Len?"

"Oh. Um." She was being put on the spot, forced to answer a question she found difficult to even word. The blonde raised an eyebrow. "I, well, um… I…"

Words filled her mouth, like, _I was disgusted_ , and _it just didn't feel right,_ and _I'm just not sure_ , but the intensity of Rin's glare made her swallow them, blurt out something else—"I felt like I just wasn't the right person for him."

The girl blinked. "…Why?"

Miku couldn't stop looking at Rin for some reason. It was the way she was staring at her, that held her gaze there. Her round eyes, small face, up-turned nose and small lips—they were familiar. Not familiar because of Len, but familiar because of something else, something Miku knew too well—

Jealousy.

"There's a girl who deserves him more than me," she found herself saying. Then she clamped her mouth shut, feeling like she had said too much.

That was disgusting.

Rin didn't quite catch on. She straightened her posture to stand taller, as if a soldier readying for battle. "Who?"

"I don't know," mumbled Miku. The answer was stupid, but her mind grew cloudy, stomach felt queasy. She felt like she was going to be sick.

"That isn't—"

"I've gotta go," she said quickly, fumbling for her textbooks. "Um, if I see Len, I'll tell him to hurry up."

Rin said nothing, and Miku stumbled off down the hallway in search of some fresh air.

What was she doing? What was she _thinking?_

Much to her misfortune, she ran into Len on the way out; not intentionally looking out for him, despite what she promised to Rin moments before. He was loitering out the front of the library with a group of his loudmouth friends that Gumi often complained about.

Said boy grew pale on seeing her. Miku didn't blame him; she hadn't exactly been nice about much lately, and a lot of unclear water surrounded them. She owed him an explanation, but she'd save it for another day—like she had done multiple times before.

"Uh, um, Mi—Miku," he choked out when she'd stalked up to him. "Good afternoon."

"Your sister," stated Miku.

He grew stiff, like he was just told bad news instead. "What about my sister?"

"Um, you know, it's kind of mean to make her wait for you when you're not even going to turn up," she told him. "She's a human. Not a nuisance."

Len seemed wary. "I was just headed down that way—"

"Save it for her," Miku muttered. She was almost going to storm off, but she paused. "I'm sorry. I'll talk about other stuff later."

He seemed confused, but she didn't elaborate. She left. She was even more confused.

But seeing them—seeing the contrast of feelings towards one another—it made her feel ill. It reminded her too much of something else.

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: song lyrics belong to Another Love by Tom Odell
> 
> this chapter has not much sin but the next chapter, the bomb is gonna drop and everyone will die
> 
> this story is kinda not something i usually work with, a little bit experimental in ways, so im sorry if it sucks (apologises forever to hana)
> 
> unbeta'd. ill be back later on to post more sins


End file.
